The Secret of the Bishop's Spear
by Briar Hecate
Summary: Mutt Williams just won his doctorate, teaches at university and travels when he can. But when government agents show up at his office, Mutt will gamble everything for a chance to find the Bishop's Spear- an incredible artifact lost to history. Mutt OFC
1. Chapter 1

There is a tide in the affairs of men.  
>Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;<br>Omitted, all the voyage of their life  
>Is bound in shallows and in miseries.<br>On such a full sea are we now afloat,  
>And we must take the current when it serves,<br>Or lose our ventures.

**Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224**

Mr. Sattler always wore well-fitted Italian leather shoes. The guide sniggered at him when he appeared at the archaeological dig site in them. The man mentioned in broken English that the caves had just been excavated and the footing was still rather fresh and uneven.

Sattler just nodded curtly and asked him to continue on.

The guide turned on his wide flashlight and lead the way into the darkened tunnels. The ceilings were not high and Mr. Sattler bowed his head, following the guide faithfully. He dodged the workers as they hastily swept up dust and dirt, looking for precious artifacts.

A burned out flashlight and a mountain of matches later, Mr. Sattler finally saw someone he recognized. There were multiple lamps set up, illuminating the dark corner of the passage. There was one worker, who was churning up dirt at an impressive speed. The leader of the dig stood in front of a curious metal object which was imbedded into the face of the cave.

"Dr. Pratt, good to see you," Mr. Sattler said, offering his hand.

Dr. Pratt turned around and took his hand, a grim expression on her face, "And you Mr. Sattler."

The handshake had left a fair amount of dirt on Sattler's hand. He stuck that hand in his pocket and tried to rub off some of the grime on the inside of his pants. "The government in Washington is extremely interested in what you have found here, doctor."

She smiled, though it was a sarcastic one, "I bet they are."

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, pointed to the metal shape. They had cleared most of the dirt off the thing, though it still was as dull as the dirt and stone that surrounded it. The four edges of it jutted out and at awkward angles too.

"I have some idea," answered Dr. Pratt, folding her arms across her chest once more and eyeing the artifact ominously. "But, I'm not the one you should be talking to about this," she replied truthfully.

"Yes well, our government has good ties to an archaeologist, we should be able to get him to come and review the site and your findings," answered Sattler, turning to the older woman.

"Ah," she said, "you won't get Jones out here. He's married now, and has a good reputation as a dean at Marshall. He's done with this kind of stuff."

"How do you know Dr. Jones?" asked

There was a slight twinkle in her eye, illumined by the lamp light. "Oh, life experience, that's all."

Then, turning serious once more she added, "You ought to get his son out here. His name's Henry Williams. Most call him Mutt. The kid's got talent, and he knows his stuff, especially when it comes to this type of thing."

"What do we have on our hands, here, Dr. Pratt?" he questioned.

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Sattler, I don't know much... but I can tell you that you are going to have one hell of a problem on your hands."

* * *

><p>The weather in Connecticut that fall was surprisingly warm. In fact, the fall of 1965 would be one of the warmest to date. The lecture halls of Marshall College were crammed with students who were fulfilling their plans on having a better academic year than the one before. The air conditioning had been turned off in anticipation of cooler weather, but with the warm front had made the lecture halls as steamy and humid as a hot bowl of soup.<p>

Molly Moore wiped the sweat off her brow as she reached up to further explain a point she had drawn on the board with chalk. "So to reiterate: if one happens to find a body on a dig, sex can be determined through metrics such as size and shape of the pelvis and the grove in the sciatic notch-"

The bell signalling the end of class blared loudly. The students seemed to topple over each other, happy to be out of the sweltering sauna which had been Archaeology 101. Molly waited at the desk at the front of the classroom waiting for the students to vacate the hall, which did not take too long. She politely answered a few questions before gathering her notes and leaving herself.

Her shoes clacked down the long hall way which lead to the professor offices. She struggled keeping her notes together as she fumbled with the key to the lock. Placing the mess of papers on the ground, Molly was finally able to open the door to the office and settle her things down on her desk.

Hearing a loud slam, Molly spun around, her heart pounding. She quickly grabbed a statuette which sat on her desk and held it up in defence. The door to the adjoining office was closed, but she could see a large shadow moving back and forth behind it.

Gulping, Molly held up the small statue and watched as the door nob turned. Closing her eyes tight, she took a great swing only to have her arms caught by one large, very calloused hand.

"Moll? What the hell are you doing?"

It was Henry Williams, professor of archaeology and he looked quite amused as he artfully removed the artifact from Molly's clenched hands.

"You gave me a heart attack!" she reasoned, brushing her hair back in place. "I thought I'd catch someone ransacking your office, or something worse... I don't know... why didn't you unlock the door?"

"I came in through the window," he said nonchalantly. "I found this in India, you know. Buddhas sitting in this position are pretty rare." He placed the item back on her desk and regarded it proudly. "Would've hurt if you had knocked me with it."

"I wasn't expecting you back, what else was I supposed to do? Let some one root through all of your research?" she explained, turning back to the pile of papers on her desk and organizing them. "And why did you sneak into your own office?" she added, a suspicious tone in her voice.

"I didn't want the dean to see me strolling around the halls when my lecture was in session," he said.

"I thought he knew you were away."

"He gave me leave for a week."

Molly looked up at him for a moment. He was examining a piece of pottery that lay on the corner of the filing cabinet. Henry had grown considerably tanned since his absence. He had told her he was going to Greece, but she knew better to assume that he stayed in one place for the duration of his absences.

"Well," she said, grabbing the stack of papers she was looking for, "here are your messages and I got a few letters from that fellow from Istanbul again. Your course outlines still need to be finished and I assigned your class a term paper on the archaeology of any civilization they choose due in November. And you do realize that you'll be defending your doctoral dissertation in ten minutes?"

"Oh, right... almost forgot about that," he said, flashing her a grin. "And can you run down the hall and tell dad that he's invited for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, now go! It'll look real bad if you show up late!" she said, pushing him out of the office.

"Did I thank you for teaching my class today?" he added, swinging around, hands placed on either side of the door frame.

"You just did," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "You're lucky I minored in Archaeology."

"A secretary that knows how to teach Arch 101 and use a type writer. I hit the jackpot."

"I'm your assistant. And you have _five_ minutes Henry! Go!"

He turned around and took off down the hall. "Good luck!" she called.

"Thanks!" he yelled back, waving an arm and disappearing into one of the larger lecture halls.

Molly waited in the hall way for a moment. Then, smoothing her dress she walked back into the office and decided to get to work cleaning the place up. Naturally, the space was crammed with artifacts Henry had brought back on digs. Molly had even collected a few things herself, but was more interested in the literary aspect of the past.

When she was satisfied with a slightly organized state she grabbed a leather bound book off her desk and walked down the hall to the dean's office. She knocked lightly on the door before she heard a soft, "Come in."

Dean of students, Dr. Henry Jones II had been in that position for several years and had not yet tired of it. He oversaw the university with an air of stoic calmness. When Molly walked in he was sitting at his desk, over looking some documents.

"Good afternoon Miss Moore, what can I do for you?" he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

"I came to return the book I borrowed from you," she said, placing the volume back in its empty space on the bookcase. The Dean kept a personal collection of books pertaining to archaeology and similar disciplines in his office. Molly had visited a few over the course of her schooling and employment at the university.

"Take another," he said, "there's one about Biblical Symbols I think you'd like."

Molly scanned the bookshelves for the novel he was speaking about. "By the way," she added, still searching the mass of books, "your son has invited you and your wife over for dinner. I think maybe to celebrate. He's defending his chair right now."

"I'm well aware. And tell him that we can't see him tonight. The museum is holding a benefit," Dean Jones mentioned, going back to the papers on his desk.

"I'll let him know," she said, more to herself than the Dean. Finding the book she wanted, she pulled the heavy text down from its resting place and blew a covering of dust off of it.

"Did you hear from Oxford yet?" questioned Jones.

"No," Molly said, her heart suddenly sinking. The chances of her getting into the art history PhD program she wanted were extremely thin now.

"Well, chin-up kid, the Brits like to give scholars a chance to panic before they accept them. They think it helps people build character," Jones mentioned.

Molly smiled, tucking the book under her arm. "I'd better go," she said.

As she reached for the door handle, the Dean added, "Oh, and Miss Moore, tell my son that if I catch him making a certain receptionist teach his class again, he'll be answering to me."

* * *

><p>Molly set down a bowl of potato and leek soup in front of Henry as he read over some papers. "I can't believe you gave my class a pop quiz," he complained.<p>

"Are you kidding me? You need to see where the students are at. You can't just give them a mid term and expect to see an accurate representation-"

"Yeah, yeah I get it- it's just you're assigning me homework when its supposed to be the other way around... with the students anyway," he said, pushing away the papers. Taking a sip of soup he added, "This is really good, you made this from scratch?"

"Yeah its a Julia Child recipe. By the way I saw the painter today. He's coming tomorrow to add the 'PhD' to your door," she told him, sipping her own soup.

"Dr. Williams... sounds good, don't it?" he said, face glowing.

"It's _doesn't_ it. And I like Dr. Jones. Or maybe Dr. Ravenwood."

"What's wrong with Williams?"

"Nothing. I just think 'Mutt' went better with it."

Henry cocked an eyebrow at her. "You know, sometimes you say these things and I just don't follow you, Moll."

She shrugged her shoulders, "Its okay. I feel the same way about you at times."

"Did you hear back from Oxford yet?"

"How does everyone in this university know about Oxford!" she burst.

Mutt was taken aback by her sudden change in attitude. He held up a hand but she continued. "It's not like I even care anymore, okay? There are plenty of other well-established institutes I can apply to. I am a _Harvard_ graduate for goodness sake! There has to be someone out there who would take me!"

She had now stood up and walked out his door, slamming it behind her, making some ancient artifacts quaking precariously in her wake.

"Women," Henry muttered, going back to his papers.

He couldn't seem to allow the words to sink into his mind though. The article he was reading on Burial Practices in Ur quickly disinterested him. Staring out the window of his cramped office, he heard Molly slamming something furiously on the typewriter. Sliding the chair out from under his desk, he opened the door and walked into the adjoining office.

Molly was sitting at her own desk, fingers moving so quickly over the keyboard he could hardly see them. An empty couch sat adjacent from her, waiting to be filled by confused students or people seeking information about his area of expertise. Molly had put up an Andy Warhol reprint above the couch, which he absolutely hated, but added some colour to the dismal room.

"Moll, you said I got a letter today?" he asked, leaning on her desk.

"Yeah, from Istanbul," she said, going through her drawer and then handing it to him.

"Thanks," he said, "and can you cancel my office hours for today?"

"But you've been gone for a week!" she protested.

"Right- um, just make them tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday."

The pair regarded each other for a long moment. Molly, with an indignant stare and Henry an apologetic expression. "What's the letter about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow from behind her glasses.

"It might be about something I've been looking to find for a while now, okay?" he answered.

"Really, and what might that be?" she pressed, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest.

_She can be so damn intimidating at times_, Henry thought. Then he broke out a large smile. "Its about the conversion of Constantine. They're thinking of digging at that bridge."

"Right, but that bridge was in Italy, Henry," she retorted.

"I know Moll!" he answered, beginning to get frustrated. She was catching him in a lie. He scratched the back of his head and looked at her. "Did you do something with your hair?" he said, in the most suave voice he could manage at the moment.

She fingered her tawny curls thoughtfully. "No," she said and then she shook her head and sighed. "Alright Henry, I'll see what I can do," she said finally.

"You're an angel, Moll!" he praised happily, leaning over and kissing her lightly on the head.

When he pulled away she was blushing slightly. "But don't get caught up in trotting all over the globe for two weeks again! You have a job here that you have to remember," she scolded lightly.

"I know, and I have the best secr- _assistant_ here too," he said, turning up the wattage on his smile.

He was pleased to see her blush as she waved him off. He knew that it was probably wrong of him to exploit her feelings for his gains, but there were times when it was almost necessary. Henry was incredibly close to finding something that had been nagging at him for over a year.

Tearing open the letter, he unfolded the carefully creased lines and began to read.

_My dear friend,_

_We have not yet located the area which you seek. Perhaps the translation had been wrong. The map-_

The door opening suddenly drew him from his thoughts. "Molly? Do you not knock anymore?" he said, an audible edge in his voice.

"Sorry, but there are some men outside-"

"Tell them that my office is closed."

She shook her head. "I think you're going to want to talk to them."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to those of you who have decided to come along with me for this adventure. I started this idea some time ago and have recently procured the time to follow it more thoroughly. You can expect an update once or twice a week. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I do writing it.

** Briar**

* * *

><p>The three men standing the the largest lecture hall at Marshall College were all dressed the same: dark suites, their hair combed back and grey fedoras atop their heads. Mutt swallowed as he approached them. He knew their types: government employees.<p>

"Don't be nervous," Molly whispered from behind him, "its probably nothing."

He wanted to believe her. But the last time men like this had shown up, he had spent a month in the Middle East trying to to rescue an ancient map rumoured to lead one to the Fountain of Youth. He had to leave Molly in charge of his dig as he risked life and limb for the United States. It had been one of the best times of his young life.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," Mutt offered as he reached the front of the hall, extending his hand.

"Good to finally meet you, Mr. Williams," one answered, who was wearing thick-framed glasses. "My name is Bates, Jimmy Bates and we're here on behalf of the president."

"Not on my account I hope," Mutt said, cracking a smile.

Nobody laughed. He could feel Molly elbow him.

"Actually Mr. Williams, we were hoping you could help us with something. You see three weeks ago, an archaeologist by the name of Eleanor Pratt found a rather curious artifice in one of the caves she was digging in southern Tibet. She said you had some expertise in this area of study."

The man to the right of Bates handed Mutt the photograph of the artifact. Holding it up to the light, Mutt could see that he was looking at something metal, possibly from the first century A.D. The metal was worn, tired looking as so many artifacts from that time period were. It was bent into a circular shape.

"I know what that is," Molly said, reaching up to take the photograph from his hands.

The three men seemed taken aback, but listened intently.

"Can you see the triangle in the middle?" she questioned, turning the picture to face the group, which Mutt joined as she let them pass it around. "That is the symbol of ancient alchemists. There should be a square in the middle of the triangle as well, though it's to hard to see from this picture alone. Where did you say she found it?"

"In southern Tibet. Sakya to be exact."

Mutt looked at her. "We could be dealing with ancient Medicine Men from China, if that's the case. Other than that I'm not sure."

"We have reason to be very interested Mr. Williams. It has become a matter of national security," Bates mentioned. "We were hoping that you would be able to fly out to Tibet."

"I'm not sure if its the best time gentlemen," Molly piped up, folding her arms across her chest in one swift, intimidating motion. "The fall semester has just begun and Dr. Williams here was awarded his doctorate only this afternoon."

"Congratulations," one of the men mumbled.

"No matter," Bates said, smiling tensely, "I am perfectly aware that this has come up at a bad time. I have another contact in New York I can speak with."

Mutt's jaw clenched. It wasn't often that he turned down jobs. He supposed it was fair though. He couldn't possibly ask Molly to take over his classes for the next three weeks. Well maybe if...

"Thank you Dr. Williams," he said, shaking Mutt's hand. Bates tipped his hat politely to Molly and then they strode down the length of the large lecture hall, leaving as efficiently as they had come.

Mutt sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache was coming along. And he had just refused government work. He was not feeling like himself. He could feel Molly rub his back. He settled down in one of the small, cramped desks of the lecture hall. She took a place beside him. "Sometimes its nice just to relax for a while," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he answered, though it didn't make him feel much better. He cracked his knuckles thoughtfully as he stared at the chalkboard, contemplating. "I know you don't have your doctorate, but maybe you could fill in for me, only for a few weeks?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Maybe you should just give me that PhD of yours. I'll actually do some good with it."

He smiled at her. "What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

She blushed heavily, "Why do you ask?"

Mutt shrugged.

"I work at the Museum tomorrow and then my friend asked to proof-read her article," she answered, looking down at her shoes.

Mutt was devising some sort of plan to get her to take his spot teaching. He wondered if taking her to a swanky dinner joint would interest her. Maybe he would buy her a real expensive bottle of wine, and then another one, and then maybe he'd break into the university and show her the private collection of artifacts from the Biblical era, ones his dad had found, something to really make her swoon. She wouldn't be able to refuse him.

"-and then I was thinking it would be best if you included the methods of artifact extraction on the midterm. Especially the difference between the antiquarian style and how we do things now. I read the most awful thing the other day about how these people in Greece were essentially just-"

Molly went on about a few things, but Mutt wasn't hearing her. His mind was in other places, specifically Tibet. The amulet he had recognized from a few books someone had written on alchemy and ancient symbols. Why the government was looking in on it was beyond him.

He did not have a good feeling about it.

And more than anything, he wanted in.

* * *

><p>Eleanor Pratt leaned against her hotel room window, staring out the Tibetan mountainside. The snow-capped peaks spoke of history and eternity. She had seen some incredible things in her lifetime, though she found nothing could quite measure to the stretching infinity she found in mountains.<p>

Pratt placed the glass of scotch she bore in her hand down on the coffee table. She barely had enough time to turn around when she heard the door come unhinged. It only took one bullet to kill her, shattering the glass behind her willowy body and letting in the cold, unforgiving air.

* * *

><p>Mutt had agreed to meet his old friend, Adib at the local diner. He was surprised to learn that Adib was in the country, as he had received the letter from him only yesterday. He spotted Adib, who seemed slightly out of place in his well tailored suit and sleek hair. Mutt smoothed his shirt and walked toward him.<p>

"Good to see you again!" Adib exclaimed, standing to shake his hand.

Mutt smiled, sliding into the booth in front of him. "I already ordered you a coffee. I hope that is alright," Adib said, motioning to one of the waitresses.

"Yeah," Mutt said, rubbing his eyes apathetically.

He was shaken awake though, when the waitresses turned out to be Molly Moore. "Good morning," she chirped, pouring the steaming brew into the ceramic cup.

"Moll? I didn't know you worked here," Mutt said, glancing up at here.

"Yeah, part-time," she answered, trying hard to maintain the plastic smile etched on her face.

"Didn't you say that you had to work at the museum this morning?" he questioned, folding his arms and leaning back into the booth.

"Yes, but they're closed today," she answered curtly, taking her notepad out of her apron.

"What? But Saturday's one of the most popular days for the museum-"

"Mutt, I don't know okay? I got a call saying some people had to go in to assess some really important artifacts or something in the museum and I picked up the shift here-"

"Yeah, but-"

"I have tables waiting!" she shouted suddenly, causing a few people to look over their shoulders at the scene unfolding.

"Can you just order?" she whispered.

Adib raised his hand in a peaceful manner, "I will have the oatmeal Miss."

She smiled and scratched it in her notepad. She turned to Mutt and cocked an eyebrow. "I'll get the breakfast special-"

"Scrambled, brown toast and bacon," she finished.

"Sausage," he corrected.

"It's no good today," she shot back.

He smiled broadly at her, "Bacon, then."

Picking up their menus she strode off to the kitchen. "That's your secretary?" Adib asked.

"Assistant," Mutt muttered. "Anyway," Mutt said, changing the subject, "I'm surprised to see you in Bedford. Not really much to see around here."

Adib leaned in closer, "To be honest with you, I was worried you would not get my letter in time."

"From Istanbul?"

"Precisely. We began digging there, but as soon as we started I knew we were wrong."

Mutt knit his eyebrows together, taking a sip of coffee. "I did that translation myself," Mutt said.

Adib shook his head, "I went back and did some more research on our subject. The next person to speak of the spear head was Saint Augustine, who had received the item from a dear friend of his on his deathbed. But the part where I become confused is where the item ended up in Byzantium."

"Right, that's where we were digging for it," he said.

"I know but-"

At that moment Molly came by with more coffee. As she filled their cups Mutt asked, "Moll, how good are you at translating Latin?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I did some in school, why?"

Adib pulled out a piece of paper. Setting the coffee pot down on the table she slid into the booth beside Mutt and recieved the text. "Careful," Mutt warned, spreading out a napkin for her to set it on.

"How old is this?" she questioned.

"About two hundred years old," Adib said. "We found it when we were doing research in the archives in Istanbul. It is a detailed account of a trip a particular artifice we have been looking for had taken a long time ago."

"Artifice? What sort of artifice?" at this, Molly turned her bespectacled glance at Mutt.

Taking a deep breath he leaned in closer to her. "We're looking for the bishop's spear," he whispered.

"What?"

"The bishop's spear," he reiterated. Turning over the page he had given her a scene from biblical writing revealed itself. It was from the crucifixion of Jesus, and showed the man hanging limply from the cross, deep wounds crossing his skin. Below the scene, mourners crowded themselves under the body of their saviour.

Mutt's finger invaded the image, pointing to a weapon held by one of the Roman generals.

"That's the bishop's spear?" questioned Molly.

"Yes," Adib said.

"The one which pierced Christ's side during his crucifixion?"

"Exactly," Mutt murmured.

Molly squinted her eyes, removing her glasses and watching the scene spread out against the dingy table's surface. It seemed rather sacrilegious to have such a thing being hunched over in a cheap restaurant. Her eyes moved to the edge of the page.

"You've torn it out," she said, running her finger along the roughened edge of the paper.

"Yeah, there, uh, are some other people looking for it," Mutt said, sipping the coffee which had cooled to a tepid degree. Molly unconsciously poured more in, warming it up for him.

"What have you gentlemen gotten yourselves into this time?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Molly!" Her manager had spotted her seated with the two men. Molly quickly stood up and smoothed her waitress uniform. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you!"

Before he had finished his thought, the bottom of Molly's coffee pot was blown off by a shotgun blast.

"Everybody down!" Molly heard Mutt's voice yell.

There were screams as she noticed people hitting the floor. Molly could feel her throat go dry as she spotted the gunman aim another fire at her. He was tall, and dressed completely in black. Before she could get a good look at him a strong hand wrapped itself around her ankle and pulled her to the ground. She hit the floor hard and then another shot was fired. The diner erupted into chaos.

People jumped over her, trying to run out.

"Come here!" Mutt said, pulled her toward him by her skirt.

"Mutt!" she yelped as he leaned over her, pinning her to the ground for an instant.

"This," he said, holding up the folded piece of paper, "is very important."

She gasped in protest as he flicked open the top buttons of her uniform. He efficiently stuffed the two-hundred year old page into her brassiere. "Don't lose it," he added, buttoning the uniform back up.

"Get off!" she yelled, smacking his hands away and sitting up so fast she hit her head.

"Careful Moll," he warned, and then hauled her up.

Holding her head down Mutt made a run for the bar, ducking behind the break in the half-wall. Spinning Molly so she was facing him he said promptly, "You run for the back door and don't stop until you reach my office at the college. Do you understand me."

She nodded, her eyes wide.

"Okay," he said, "go."

"What about you?"

He smiled nodding to the rest of the diner, "I have some friends who want to say hello."


	3. Chapter 3

Mutt Williams wished for an instant he had his gun... or at least his knife. He had taken to leaving the weaponry at home when he was back in Bedford. The location was rather peaceful, and he had gotten a false sense of security. He watched Molly drop to her hands and knees and disappear behind the corner into the kitchen. She would make it back to his office, he had a lot of trust in that girl.

Mutt remained silent as he plucked a small and annoying piece of glass from his hand. He could hear the gunmen (there were two) crunch the shards beneath their feet from where they had shot Molly's coffee pot. Most people had gotten out of the restaurant. He wondered how many were left.

"All we want is Henry Jones. If he comes quietly, no one in here will get hurt." The first gunman's voice was gruff and demanding.

Mutt scoffed. He hated it when people called him Henry. And although his parents might have been married, he most certainly was _not_ a Jones.

"If he doesn't come," a female voice warned, "then we can't guarantee anyone here will leave in one piece."

They sent a woman and a man after him. Looking across the divide in the bar, he could see that Adib was still crouched under their table. He had a pistol cocked in his hand, ready to use. Mutt felt his jaw clench. No sound came from the restaurant except from the sickening crunching of broken glass. They were getting closer.

Then Mutt caught the glint of a large knife on top of the bar. The thing was large and looked heavy enough. Though it was no gun, the knife could definitely do damage if used properly.

He had to be smart about this. The crunching sound was getting louder. Mutt had a short way to go before he was able to reach the weapon. If he was quiet about it, he could gain the upper hand in the small altercation.

"Come out, come out," the male voice persisted.

Holding his breath, Mutt dodged the fallen glasses and plates as he neared the knife. He was getting closer, the glinting becoming more pronounced as he slinked along underneath the bar. Reaching the handle, he thought to himself, would be a trick. He couldn't expect the agents to be stupid enough to miss his hand reaching for the object.

He would have to take the risk.

Fixing his eye on the knife he began slowly reaching up for it when he felt the cord hard barrel of a pistol pressing into his neck. Mutt swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Don't move, unless you want to eat lead," the female agent coolly warned.

Mutt went stiff as he heard a shot go off. Turning his head slightly, he could see that Adib had taken a bullet to the shoulder. He cried in pain and slumped against one of the diner booths.

"Alright," Mutt said, "you have our attention."

"Good," the woman said, pulling her gun away from my neck. He turned around fully now and she motioned for me to follow her. The other man, her partner, picked Adib up and began leading him to the back door. He could see cop cars arriving, but they had not come soon enough.

Mutt looked over at Adib who nodded at his friend, letting him know he was okay. Mutt wasn't convinced. His face had grown white as a sheet. He wrapped a piece of cloth around his arm, staunching the bleeding.

"He needs a hospital," Mutt demanded as a black car swung around the corner.

"There's a doctor on site," she said, smoothing her blonde hair and opening the door for him.

Mutt noted that they were being treated fairly enough for a pair of captives. He had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. These people wanted more than just an exchange of information. He said a silent prayer that Molly had gotten to where she needed to be. He was doubtful.

Putting pressure on his friend's wound, the car sped out onto the street. Blending in with the local Saturday morning crowd, they were as good as lost to anyone who was going to try and look for them. Mutt cursed under his breath.

The Bishop's Spear had caused more of a stir than he thought as possible.

He and Adib had started looking into it as their pet project a few years ago when they found themselves in Rome. The spear was said to have been lost to history along with other holy relics. It wasn't until last summer when he caught a lead saying the spearhead may be found somewhere in Istanbul that they decided to start digging there.

In spite of their efforts, nothing turned up. But going back to the letter they had found in the book, he believed that it was possible they could have gotten the translation wrong.

And that meant the spear was still out there.

Mutt found himself coming out of his thoughts as rain began to hit the roof of the car. He was not really that surprised to see that they were indeed pulling up to the museum. Molly had mentioned that the place had been shut down for special visitors. He should have known then.

The car stopped in front of the grand entrance way. Stepping out of the vehicle, the blonde opened the door for them once more. Mutt helped Adib out and they began to walk up the steps to the modest museum. There were two others there waiting for them. One ushered Adib from him and into the dark halls of the museum, presumably the doctor.

The other took him roughly by the arm and lead him into a hall which was filled with busts ranging from Classical Greece to Late Roman periods.

To Mutt's dismay Molly was sitting on a bench in her rumpled waitress outfit, looking as dejected and sorry as ever. He smiled to her, trying to assure her that everything would be okay.

She pursed her lips and clenched her jaw. Clearly, she thought they wouldn't.

"I thought I told you to go to the college," he whispered through his teeth.

"I had a little trouble," she retorted motioning over to the two burly men who stood in front of us.

Mutt sighed heavily, holding his face in his hands.

"I swear to god Henry," she said, her voice dangerously low, "if I get caught in one of your ridiculous schemes I will kill you."

He laughed lightly.

Her face remained stoic. "I wasn't joking."

He nodded his head, "I know."

"Dr. Jones, Miss Moore, I suppose you are both wondering why you have been brought to this place," a man said, who had just walked into the hall.

He could have been numbered among the busts, for he was as tall and stony as they were. The man also carried a thick accent, which Mutt immediately recognized to be Russian.

"Should've guessed they would have sent KGB after us," Mutt said, folding his arms against his chest and leaning back in his seat. "Sicking some of your American partners on us was a smart move too, even fooled me."

The man smiled, "They told me you were smart, Dr. Jones. I half expected to have more trouble bringing you here. Sending your little maid off with this would have been a good idea, if your actions were not so obvious to us, she might have even gotten away."

"Assistant," Mutt and Molly said in unison, the same thread of tension strung in their voices.

The man chuckled to himself. "My name is Alexi Glebovich. I have come here because it seems that one of the artifacts you have been looking for the past year and a half, has become of interest to us."

"Couldn't do any of your own research, could you?" Mutt spat.

Glebovich waved a finger at him. "Don't be so quick to point fingers Dr. Jones. As I understand it your father did much work on the subject of the Bishop's Spear while he was still a young man, much like yourself. Stood on his shoulders did you, to come as close as you did to finding it?"

Mutt's face was ashen as he considered Glebovich's words. "You're nothing but a washed up piece of shit, good for nothing-"

Molly yelped as one of the guards hit Mutt on the head with a good, hard _thwack_. Mutt blinked a few times, trying to rid the spots that formed in his vision. Shaking his head, he watched as the world slowly turned back to horizontal.

"Excuse me, sir," Molly said as practically as she could manage. "But I just don't see why I need to be here any longer. Now that you have the page you wanted-"

"You gave them the page?" Mutt whispered furiously to her.

"The one you violated me over?" she said, shooting him a sharp glance. "Anyway," she continued, "I'll just exit through the back door and you will never see, nor hear from me again."

She stood up and had barely lifted her foot off the ground before a guard came to take her by the shoulders and sit her back down.

"Hey!" Mutt exclaimed. "Get your hands off her!"

"I regret to inform you, Miss Moore, that you are very much indeed a part of what will be taking place very shortly," Glebovich said.

"And what exactly will that consist of?" Molly asked, more boldly.

At her statement the man smiled. "It will consist of you, Dr. Jones and my personal guard, Isay finding the Bishop's Spear for us."

Molly and Mutt glanced over at one another. Molly sighed heavily and looked away. "What makes you think we're going to fall into step with you on this?" he asked.

Glebovich smiled. "Because if you don't," he said, loosening his crisp collar, "I will have one Mr. and Mrs. Jones held indefinitely until you choose to begin our quest again."

He sat down in front of the two of them, holding out his hands, palms facing the ceiling. "You have the opportunity to find one of the most important artefacts lost to humankind, Dr. Jones. There are other scholars in your position who would willingly put themselves in this position."

"Yeah, except they're scum and I'm not," he added.

Glebovich smiled. "We are one in the same, you and I," he whispered, "you just don't know it yet."

* * *

><p>"I don't know what to take," Molly whispered to Mutt as she hastily threw things into a small bag.<p>

Mutt removed a few books from the bag, tossing them on the ground beside her bed. The cramped studio apartment above an antique store had too many bookshelves and not enough room for necessities like furniture and living space. Molly and Mutt had been sent here with Isay waiting at the door. They had half an hour for the two of them to pack their bags. Molly had already taken fifteen minutes.

"What you really need are these," Mutt said, grabbing some underwear from the desk drawers behind him.

"Hey!" she shouted, grabbing those out of his hands, her cheeks blushing heavily. "Don't touch those!"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," he said, exasperated. "Can you hurry up?" he added, stepping over a stack of heavy books.

"I'm sorry that I'm not used to being held hostage by international criminals," she said pointedly.

"Okay well you have enough stuff, can we go now?" he asked, throwing his hand toward the doorway and to the Russian mobster who was nearly taking up half of it.

"Doctor is right, young lady," Isay said in a gruff Russian accent.

Molly looked at the two men and zipped up her bag. "Such gentlemen," she said sarcastically.

She took one last glance around her apartment, knowing it would be a long time before she set foot in her tiny living space again. The men stepped in front of her before she turned around and closed the door behind her.

Taking a deep breath she started off down the hall. Mutt took her small bag from her hands and gave her an encouraging smile, jamming his elbow in her ribs playfully. "Now you're finally going to learn what its like to be an archaeologist."

"Too bad I'm a philologist," she muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

Mutt and Molly sat together on the plane. Isay was one seat up from them in the aisle. He had a way of turning his head and nonchalantly glancing over his shoulder at them. Mutt was relieved though, mostly because it gave him time to talk to Molly.

The stop at her apartment had only left him five minutes to grab everything he thought he'd need. He hated having to choose between extra bullets, underwear and books. In the end he decided the books took precedent.

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket as well as a pencil.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked, leaning over to spy what he was scrawling on the paper.

"Keep your voice down, will ya?" he whispered.

She raised an eyebrow in a warning glance.

He smiled good-naturedly and pulled down the tray from the back of the seat in front of him. "Look," he said, keeping his voice low, "this is all we know about the Bishop's Spear."

Molly shifted over and placed her elbow on the arm rest, pushing her hair back so she could see completely the piece of paper.

"When Christ died on the cross, apparently a Roman soldier pierced his side to see if he was really dead," Mutt began, jotting down some words about the tale.

"And then blood and water came out," Molly finished. When Mutt looked over, surprised she answered simply, "Sunday School. My father was Irish Catholic."

"Good, you must know all about this then," he said in a mildly sarcastic voice.

Molly rolled her eyes, "Continue."

"Anyway the spear wasn't mentioned again until much later. Antoninus mentioned it in his travels, but three main spear heads were mentioned around the Middle Ages. The first was called the Vatican Lance, kept at the Basilica of Mount Zion, the Echmiadzin Lance and the Vienna Lance," Mutt said.

Molly reach forward, pulling the travel brochure out the of pocket in front of her. Opening it up to the map of the world, she briefly plotted out the places he had mentioned. "Well," she sighed, "none of these places are even close to Istanbul. No wonder you haven't found it."

Molly had a very subtle way of making him feel like a jackass. "If you'd be patient then I'd be able to explain to you what I was doing there."

"Okay, go ahead."

"When I was in Rome a few months ago-"

"I thought you said you were going to Poland," Molly interjected.

Mutt decided to ignore her. "- I came across some letters at the Vatican from Saint Helen to her husband in Constantinople."

Molly nodded her head. "Yeah she was popular with religious relics, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she is famous for finding the true cross," he noted, running a hand through his hair. "Anyway in the letters she mentions that all the spears currently known to mankind are fakes. She expressly mentions in one of the letters that when she was in Israel she came across a small lance head, one called the Bishop's Spear."

He recalled the small sketch of the spear head St. Helen had roughed in to one of her letters. He tried to draw the weapon from memory, showing Molly how small and beat up it looked... like something that had been well used.

"It was called the Bishop's Spear because apparently the Roman Soldier who stabbed him entrusted the spear head to Saint Paul-"

"The first Bishop of Rome," Molly said, taking the paper from the tray and holding it closer to the light. She was intrigued by the sketch of the spear head. "That definitely looks Roman," she murmured, "it has good craftsmanship."

Mutt nodded, agreeing with her.

"But how did it get all the way to Israel?" she asked.

Mutt shrugged. "My guess is it was given to a trusted friend after he died. Israel also would have been a good place to keep the spear head. It was pretty far from strong pagan practitioners and most early Christians were fine to hold their services in synagogues... it would have been safe for them to keep it hidden there."

"So Saint Helen finds the Bishop's Spear and then what?"

"She sends it to him," Mutt answered.

Molly smiled, "So you _were_ digging in the right place."

"Well, that's what we originally thought," Mutt said. "But Adib knew we were wrong."

"Adib?"

"The man I was at the diner with."

"Oh," Molly said easily.

Their conversation was put on hold while the plane began to race down the runway, ready to take off. As it flew into the air, the wind lifting the metal contraption shakily off the ground. Molly's face blanched and she gripped onto the arm rest, white-knuckled.

"Relax, would ya?" Mutt said teasingly, covering her hand with his own in an attempt to calm her.

"I hate flying," she muttered, "and I just remembered I forgot to call the diner and tell them I'm going to be out of the country."

"Ah hell, don't worry about it," he said, "I didn't like how that manager was speaking to you anyway."

"It's just a job," she murmured. "Like this was supposed to be. Now look at me."

"You can't honestly tell me that you'd rather be serving food to a bunch of hormonal teens?" Mutt said, smiling.

"I think I do that on a regular basis with you," she said, laughing lightly. She let go of his hand and re-examined the map set out before them. "Why are we flying to Rome then, if all the clues point toward Istanbul?"

"Because I think she may have given it to a close relative, or something. The spear was popular amongst alchemists, maybe she knew one."

"Alchemists? That's one part of the story I didn't know," Molly said, looking from the map toward him."

"Something yon don't know? Should I take a picture?" he said in jest.

Molly's eyes suddenly glazed over. "What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly becoming serious.

"Nothing... maybe. Didn't the men who came to see us yesterday say something about alchemists?" she questioned. "I'm probably wrong, right? I mean these two things are so far removed from one another that they can't possibly be connected."

Mutt didn't know what to say. "Anything is possible, Moll. In this business..."

Isay turned around and glowered at them for the thousandth time. The plane dipped suddenly as it hit a patch of rough air. Molly grabbed Mutt's hand tightly again, pressing her head into her seat.

"I hate this," she said through clenched teeth.

Mutt's gut lurched to, but it wasn't because of the shaking plane. He had a funny feeling that this thing was a hell of a lot bigger than just them and the communists.

* * *

><p>Molly couldn't help but sigh as she walked along the cobbled streets of Rome at night. Despite the fact that her irresponsible boss and Russian thug were her companions the city was so beautiful she couldn't help but admire it. Mutt was taking little time to appreciate her surroundings. Every time she stopped to look at something he would pull her along. It was starting to annoy her.<p>

"Can't we just read what this plaque says?" she questioned, exasperated.

"No," he and Isay said in unison.

"The sooner we can find these letters, the sooner we can leave," Mutt said, his tone low.

"The sooner we can...? Can't we just stay for an extra day or something?" she tried.

"No," the two said in unison.

Molly gritted her teeth. "This isn't a vacation," Mutt admonished, grabbing her wrist so she was walking in tandem with his long stride.

"Well, I just don't understand why we can't make the best of a bad situation," she muttered.

"Listen, when we get back I'll give you a month of paid vacation and you can go wherever the hell you want," Mutt said, trying to end the argument.

"Ha! You couldn't last a week without me!" she countered.

That made him stop. "Are you kidding me?"

"We have to-" Isay began.

"Shut up!" Molly and Mutt yelled at him.

"It's true!" she said, sticking her index finger to his chest. "Besides teaching your classes, proof-reading your articles and taking messages I cook for you, tie your ties, fill out your cheques and you _even_ made me break up with Martha Baker!"

"Did I make you break up with Martha?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"How'd she take it?" he questioned, in good-humour.

"Not well!"

"Oh," he said, sighing lightly and running a hand through his hair. Without warning he put a finger under her chin and dipped his head, kissing her softly on the lips. She could feel her skin flush suddenly, straight to her toes. "I really don't know what I would do without you," he whispered, as he pulled away from her, planting a kiss on her forehead for good measure.

Speechless, Molly stood in the middle of the street, her eyes wider than saucers.

Mutt laughed, putting an arm around her shoulders and strolling down the street. "You know what? Rome really is beautiful this time of year."

Molly didn't say anything. She was really past forming words.

"Wanna know something else?" Mutt added, hypothetically. "I'm going to make it a point to kiss you more often. It makes you so much more agreeable."

Isay laughed. Molly's heart fluttered.

* * *

><p>I'm sorry its taken so long for me to update. I've been very busy with school and such. Hopefully you are enjoying this so far... especially the little kiss. Had to give you guys something for being so patient with me!<p>

All the best,

Briar


	5. Chapter 5

Mutt watched Molly climb up the ladder to grab another book of letters. He leaned back in his chair and chewed on the end of his pencil. She was wearing a skirt that came just below her knees and he admired her shapely calves. The illusion was broken though, when she slipped on a rung coming down from the ladder with a dusty, large volume in her arms.

Mutt felt himself jump out of his chair as she shrieked. Grabbing onto the sides of the ladder she managed to stop herself from falling.

"Christ!" Mutt yelled. "Be careful, would ya?"

"Sorry," she said a little breathlessly. The priest who had allowed them into the archives gave Mutt a stern look. Molly also turned to him with an apologetic glance.

Isay was sleeping soundly in a chair at the end of the desk, undisturbed by the small commotion.

"This is a place of God, Dr. Jones," the priest said, folding his arms across his chest and walking over to the desk, which had been piled with decrepit, mouldy books. "You would do well to have some respect."

Mutt hated it when people mistook his last name. Before he could open his mouth to correct him, Molly interjected. "I'm sorry Father, getting him to church is about as easy as pulling teeth," she said, smiling.

The priest's expression softened. "Well, I suppose you take after your father more than I expected, Dr. Jones," he said. Mutt had to drop his father's name to get into the archives at the horrendous hour they requested. Luckily Father James was awake, apparently revising a new doctrine the Pope was about enact. And luckily, he had vast interactions with Dr. Jones Senior. Enough so that he owed him a favour.

"And you, Miss Moore?" he asked Molly. "What is your religious persuasion?"

"Irish Catholic," she answered. "But I admit I haven't been to church in a while. Work and school have made me an infidel."

Incredibly Father James smiled. "What is it exactly that you're looking for?"

Mutt gave Molly a look which said something along the lines of: _don't you dare open that big mouth of yours_. But she blatantly ignored it.

"We were researching some information on the Bishop's Spear," she answered pointedly, if only to spite Mutt.

The priest seemed taken aback. "How interesting," he said rather blandly.

"Is there anything you can tell us about it?" she questioned.

It took all Mutt had not to jump over the table and silence her. Instead he was forced to just sit and pray that the priest didn't have any friends in high places. Besides maybe God.

Father James sighed and adjusted his glasses, "No, I'm afraid not. I believe that artifact was lost to history a long time ago."

Molly glanced down at her shoes. He hoped she knew that the priest was most likely lying. Mutt could tell in the way he rushed his words and gaze did not waver. The priest knew something about the spear... something he was not quick to tell.

"There are many who would say otherwise," Mutt said.

The priest looked at him, his long robes swaying with the movement. "And there are some who say that artefacts are lost for good reason, Dr. Jones."

"It's Williams to you," Mutt said, standing up out of his chair.

Molly was quick to intervene. "It's been a long night, thank you for all of your help Father." She smiled, walking over toward Mutt and kicking the leg of Isay's chair on the way. He was jolted awake and looked around the room in distaste.

Taking Mutt's arm she thanked the priest once more and calmly escorted him from the room. Isay was close behind them and Mutt waited until they had left the archives room to yell.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking? We'll never get the letters now!" he asserted in a hushed whisper.

Molly kept her eyes on the double doors leading out into Vatican City. "Keep your voice down!" she insisted.

Mutt was fuming. Isay was still annoyed, having been woken most unseemly from sleep, muttering some gruff curses in heavy Russian tongue. Molly kept her hurried pace and burst through the doors of the archives and into the warm Roman night.

"Now will you tell me!" Mutt demanded, grabbing her arm.

"Don't touch me, brute!" she yelled back, batting his hand away.

"Don't make me kiss you again!" he threatened and it was enough to cause a blush to form on her cheeks.

"I'm going to make you feel like a fool in half a minute," she warned, pressing her index finger to his chest. "You think I almost fell down that ladder by sheer clumsiness? I was taken aback by this." With that she pressed a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Luckily your little tiff with the good Father let me tear it from the book," she added.

"What is it?" he asked, unfolding the sheet.

"A copy of St. Helen's will."

* * *

><p>"So he <em>was<em> hiding something," Mutt murmured as he spread the document across the desk.

The three were crowded in Mutt's hotel room, the will spread out before them on the small wooden desk. The copy had not been contained to just one double sided sheet, but it was full of religious artefacts and Molly had spotted the spear a member of the list in the archival room. She prayed that she had not misread the lines.

"No wonder so many pages were torn out of the books," Molly said thoughtfully. "I think some people went through there before us."

"No kidding," Isay added, entranced by the page.

The Sun was slowly rising, barely warming the winding Roman paths and stuccoed buildings. Molly glanced out over the horizon and noted with some disdain how hungry and tired she was. She got up and went to the window, pulling back the curtains slightly so she could view the city unobstructed. Leaning her face on the glass she welcomed its cool hardness against her throbbing forehead.

"Ah!" Mutt exclaimed, tapping his finger on the piece of paper.

Molly looked over at him, his face shining with elation.

"It says here that she gave the spear to her sister, but only for the duration of her life. When St. Helen died, the spear was given back to her." Mutt looked up from the paper and regarded Molly.

She furrowed her brow, thinking. "Given to back to her on her death? What does that mean?"

"It would have been placed in her sarcophagus, right?" Mutt questioned.

Molly shrugged, coming to sit down beside him, "Well, isn't that the most obvious?"

"Does not mean isn't right," Isay interjected. Rubbing his temples, he added, "The day has been long, I will retire." The two watched the burly Russian extricate himself from the room, letting the heavy hotel door slam behind him, just to make sure they knew who was still in charge.

"He's probably right, you know," Mutt observed. "Is something the matter Moll?" he asked her, putting an arm around her.

"No," she answered, shaking her head and leaning into his embrace, "I'm just really tired, I guess."

Mutt gave her a sympathetic look, "Well go get some sleep then, kid. You've done really well today."

"How far do you think we'd get if we starting running from Isay?" she asked, closing her eyes.

She could feel the vibrations in Mutt's chest as he chuckled. "Probably five feet," he answered. "Okay, c'mon kid," he said, gathering her up in his arm and standing, "let's get you to your room." Molly was too exhausted to care. Instead she buried herself further into his shirt, which smelled of musty old books with a faint hint of cologne.

_God, she's real tired_, Mutt noted as he carried her. He smiled to himself, thinking of how proud he was of her and how she had not let being a captive or uprooted from her home phase her.

He smiled against her hair, noting that it smelled slightly like soap and something vaguely floral. He set her down carefully in front of her hotel room, the hall lights turned off as the Sun rose higher in the sky, shedding light on the rows of identical doors.

She looked slightly irritated, as though she were working something out in her mind, when she slid the key into the lock. "Good night," she whispered, only half turning around.

"Moll?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

He couldn't fight the urge to kiss her any longer, so he didn't. Putting the palm of his hand lightly on her abdomen he pressed her back into the door. Her eyes grew wide, like they had the first time. Smiling he leaned in, fixing his lips lightly against hers. Mutt slid his hands from her abdomen to her hips as he brought his body flush against hers.

She was tired, he decided, as her lips moved weakly against his. _I'll let her go this time_, he reasoned but found it increasingly hard to pull back from the sweet taste of her soft mouth. Breathing in deeply, he lazily retreated, finishing by planting a kiss on her forehead.

"What was that all about?" she asked, maintaining the irritable tone in her voice.

"If you do as well as you did today, maybe you'll find out," he retorted.

"Good night Dr. Williams," she said decidedly, but he noted a ghost of a smile tugging at the edge of her swollen lips.

"Good morning Miss More," he said, watching her open the door and slip into the safe darkness of her room.

Mutt smiled like a fool the short walk back to his apartment. He left the door unlocked and opened the door easily, looking forward to a shower and sleep. Unbuttoning his shirt, he noticed that Molly had left her glasses on his coffee table.

"I'll give them to her tomorrow," he said aloud, his rational side speaking up (which he found it did, occasionally).

_She's probably still awake_ he thought. _She's probably still awake and then she'll have to invite me in..._

He needed no further encouragement. Grabbing the glasses off of the table he nearly ran out of his room and down the red-carpeted hall. Sliding to a stop outside her door he took a moment to compose himself and then knocked on the door three times.

No answer.

He was a little surprised, but knocked twice more. "Moll? It's me..."

No answer.

_Maybe she's asleep..._

But he had knocked hard enough to wake her. There was silence on the other end of the door. No rusting, no snoring, nothing. Mutt was about to walk away, but something didn't feel right. He knocked again.

Quiet rustling.

The door knob turned. Molly's flaxen head peeked out from behind the door. She squinted her eyes at him. "Mutt?"

"Yeah, you forgot your glasses," he said, holding out his hand the glasses clenched in his fist.

"Oh, thanks," she said.

Mutt stood there for a moment before asking, "Can I come in?"

"Um... no, I don't think that's a very good idea," she answered simply.

"Okay..." he said. He noticed her look down for a moment, biting her lip. She opened her mouth to say something, but then gave up.

"Is everything okay?" he enquired for the second time that day.

"Yeah!" she said, attempting a smiled, "Yeah, just hard trying to get to sleep... you know with all the noise."

Mutt nodded his head, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Alright well, I'll see you at dinnertime," she said quietly.

"See you," he said. But as she tried to close the door, Mutt grabbed a hold of it and swung it in as hard as he could manage. He felt a body crush on the other side of it. Molly screamed as an intruder pointed a gun at the two of them.

"Get in and close the door... Then try to convince me why I shouldn't paint the walls with your brains."

* * *

><p>Thanks everyone for sticking with me! Now that I am off for the summer you can be expecting more updates from me.<p>

Hope you're enjoying and feedback is always welcome!

Briar.


	6. Chapter 6

"Good night, Dr. Williams," Molly said, her hand on the door knob.

"Good morning, Miss Moore," Mutt replied, his eyes shining with that familiar spark she had come to know lately. His hands were punched in his pockets, and he seemed to be leaning back on his heels, completely relaxed.

Molly tried not to allow herself to smile. She was too tired and annoyed to be bothered letting her heart jump through hoops. She desperately wanted to show him how he had no effect on her. She opened the door and hastily ran behind it, hiding effectively. The room was dark, the blinds drawn, only a smidgen of light escaping through the cracks in the blinds and door.

Alone in the darkness she touched her lips, still feeling the tingling of his mouth upon hers. In spite of herself, she could feel her lips turn upwards.

"Stop it!" she reprimanded herself in a sharp whisper. "He only cares about himself," her conscious forced her to speak the words. She wanted to snatch them back, to make them not true.

Hearing a soft thud in the darkness, Molly immediately flattened herself against the door, holding her breath. Her hand was on the doorknob, preparing to turn it when someone pressed the cold barrel of a gun up to her temple.

"Hush," they said. "We only want you to answer a few questions."

Molly managed to nod her head. _I guess I should have let him come in here after all_, she thought, bemused. The man had his hand against her sternum, pressing her into the wood. She did not struggle against it, annoyed. All she wanted to do was go to sleep.

"Alright," she said, an irritated edge in her voice.

"Good," the man replied.

She was about to ask whether or not they could turn on the light at least when she heard a firm rap at the door. The two of them immediately tensed. Again there was knocking, more firmly this time. Then an unsure "Moll? It's me..." came from the other side. Molly rolled her eyes.

"Answer the door," the man commanded in a hushed whisper.

"I don't know if that's the best idea," she countered, whispering.

"Do it now," he said, and she could feel his hand move toward her throat. Taking a deep breath she ran a hand through her hair and turned the knob. Peeking her head out she saw Mutt standing there, looking mighty pleased with himself. The harsh light of the hall made her eyes narrow. "Henry?" she said, trying to sound surprised.

"Yeah, you forgot your glasses," he said, holding out his fist, her favourite pair clenched between his fingers.

"Oh, thanks," Molly said, taking them from him. She was ready to close the door when he asked, "Can I come in?"

Her heart skipped. He was propositioning her. Trying to make sense of what he had just said and the assassin behind her, hidden in the shadows with a gun pressed to her back made her want to scream in frustration. When she hesitated the gun pressed harder. "Um... I don't think that's a very good idea," she said.

He looked disappointed. "Okay."

She was really at a loss for words now. Looking down she wanted to say something like: we work together or I like you only as a friend, or even maybe next time. Instead she forced a smile.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked serious.

"Yeah!" she said, a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, just hard trying to get to sleep, you know...with all the noise."

Mutt nodded his head, still suspicious, "Yeah I know what you mean."

"Alright! See you around dinnertime," she said, trying to end the conversation.

She nearly heard the door click into place when Mutt jammed the door open, crushing Molly against the wall. Molly heard someone mutter something about painting and brains. Still caught behind the door, she screamed. The loud crack of a gun went off and she heard a body hit the floor.

"Henry!" she yelled.

"Moll!" he yelled back.

"Vhat in God's name is going on?" a heavily accented voice said, more calmly than necessary.

Finally someone turned on the light. The room was in complete disarray. Mutt was lying on the ground, his belly flat to the floor and hands covering his head. Isay was holding a gun, his hair mussed from sleep, the too-small bathrobe he roped around his figure barely reached his knees.

The person everyone was focused on, however, lay in the corner of the room, draped in dark clothing. Isay's shot in the dark had miraculously hit the assassin in the shoulder. He held his wounded arm, blood dripping to the carpet. Molly found herself staring at the splash of blood that landed on the back wall of the hotel room. It looked suspiciously artistic.

Isay glanced over at Molly.

"Here," he grumbled, handing her a handkerchief from the pocket of his robe.

"I'm not crying," she said stupidly.

"For dis," he said, pointing at his nose.

She immediately touched her nose and saw that her finger was drenched in fresh red blood. "Oh," she said nonchalantly and pressed the fabric to her face.

"Did I do that?" Mutt asked, smiling sheepishly.

"You idiot," she muttered.

The loud breathing of the man Isay had just shot filled the room. Mutt, gathering himself up off the floor was the first to go and check the situation. The sound of voices in the stairwell made everyone freeze.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Molly yelled, exasperated. She stepped onto the far bed and dismounted on the other side. The assassin looked up at her, his eyes glazed over. She bent, taking his good arm and trying to help him up.

Mutt was immediately at her side, supporting the man with his weight. "This guy threatened to paint the wall with my brains and now look what I'm doing," he whinged.

"It must be that trip to the Vatican," Molly said peevishly.

The shouts were becoming louder. "Hurry," Molly said, "we have to get him out of here."

Isay pushed her out of the way and with a guttural grunt hoisted the man up on his shoulders. Both Mutt and Molly were slightly taken aback. Isay looked over at them. "Go distract!" he ordered.

Molly spun around on her heel and was out the door of the hotel room just as a manager came rushing toward her.

"Signorina! Scuzi, Signorina!" he shouted in a thick Italian accent.

Molly rushed toward him. She was determined to meet him further down the hallway so he wouldn't see the scene. "Signorina," he began as he neared her and before she had time to think, Molly hooked her fingers into his shirt collar and pulled him toward her. She covered his mouth fully with her own. Molly squeezed her eyes as tight as possible and moved her lips against his.

When he tried to pull away she pressed herself up against him harder. The door opened at the end of the hallway and she moaned loudly to drown out the sound. When she felt it safe she unlatched her lips from his, turned on her heel once more and headed toward the door at the end of the hall, the one marked with an exit.

Pushing it open, the door slammed against the jam. Adrenaline pumping through her ears, Molly ran down the stairwell until she saw the hem of Mutt's jacket.

"Hey!" she yelled.

Mutt spun around just in time to catch her as Molly tripped over a stair and fell into his arms.

"I don't have time for you!" he reprimanded, hauling her down the stairs. They could hear someone open a door above them.

"Keep going!" Molly yelped.

Isay was still carrying the man over his shoulder and managed to leap through an open door and into an alleyway. Mutt and Molly followed him. The piercing light of the morning made Molly's eyes burn and water. As they adjusted she could see the two men standing over the would-be assassin, who's breathing could be heard clearly from where she was standing.

"Who are you?" Mutt asked, kneeling so he was at eye-level with the man.

"The protector of all thing Holy, as proclaimed in his name," the assassin asked.

Molly stepped closer, leering slightly over Mutt's hunched frame. "Why are you trying to hurt us?" she found herself asking. Mutt craned his neck around to glare at her.

"I'm asking the questions," he said.

"I am bound by my faith not to kill, Signorina. I would not have killed you," he answered, his big, dark eyes staring up at her. She felt a little taken aback by his gaze, his chest was heaving up and down.

"Then what's that for?" Mutt questioned, pointing to the gun in the man's belt.

"I was instructed to collect answers," he said.

"Who do you work for?"

"I am only tied to He Who is Most Holy-"

"I know that pal, I'm just wondering about your earthly messenger. The one who you report to," Mutt said with a growing exasperation.

"The order I serve strives to protect the Holy Relics."

Molly, who was trying to piece his words together, suddenly remembered something she read in the book Dr. Jones lent her. "Mutt, undo his shirt," she demanded lightly.

"Just trust me," she said.

Having Isay restrain his good arm, Mutt unbuttoned the man's shirt and pushed aside his suit jacket.

"Now what?"

"He might have a tattoo over his heart."

Mutt undid a few more buttons before revealing the bare skin of his breast. Molly helped him push aside the shirt until a small, faded tattoo was presented before the two of them.

"Oh my God," Mutt whispered, his mouth going dry.

"Is this not the same symbol Dr. Pratt uncovered in Tibet?" Molly asked, her voice low and excited.

Mutt and Molly always became quiet when they happened upon a discovery. The two stared in disbelief at the small symbol. Molly clutched onto his shoulders and leaned in closer.

"You're an alchemist," she said. "You're a Christian Alchemist."

The man did not answer.

"We are looking for the Bishop's Spear." Molly knew Mutt would want to murder her for this, but she found that sometimes honesty was the best way to go about things. "We mean to do nothing less with it than protect it. People close to us are in trouble and finding the spear is the only thing that can help them now."

The man looked down and then back up at Molly. "I am a brother who was charged with protecting the Spear. There are hundreds of us over the globe. The Spear shall not be harmed."

Molly smiled. "Then you underestimate your own enemies."

"Indeed, Signorina. Have you not done the same?"

"Tell us where it is," Mutt said.

The man glanced back to Mutt and smirked. Mutt, growing ever more frustrated, grabbed him by the collar and pushed him up against the brick wall. "Tell me where it is!"

"I cannot, Signore. No brother knows where the spear is hidden. The only information we receive is from our superiors."

"Henry," Molly said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Slowly Mutt lowered him to the ground once more. "We have all the information we need Henry, let's just go," she said, tugging lightly on his shirt. Releasing his hands from the man's clothing, Mutt stood up, straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair.

Standing up he lead the three out of the alleyway and into the daylight.

"So then, where are we going to next?" he said, looking expectantly at Molly.

"After everything he just gave away? I'm surprised you even have to ask."


	7. Chapter 7

"Where exactly are we going?" Mutt asked, trying to follow her furious pace.

"The Vatican first, but I have a funny feeling we're going to be headed to the airport soon," she answered.

Molly stopped suddenly, causing Mutt to almost run into her headlong. Spinning around she smiled at Isay. "Isay," she began lightly, "do you think there is any way you could get back to the hotel and collect our things. I am almost certain we will have to be going to another country after our trip to the Vatican."

Isay regarded her for a moment. "If you try get away, I vill find you and kill you." He said everything very simply and eloquently. Molly nodded her head vociferously. The two regarded one another for a moment.

"Here," Molly said, reaching into her shirt and producing a passport. "There," she mentioned, "I can't leave the country without it. Call it collateral."

Isay smiled and took the passport from the outstretched hand. "Okay _dorogoya moya_, I trust you."

"Not me, eh?" Mutt said good naturedly, but Isay just frowned at him.

Molly grabbed her boss' forearm and pulled him along the sidewalk. "C'mon," she admonished. "I'm glad I was able to get him off our backs for a few hours."

"Now can you tell me exactly where we're going?" Mutt asked.

Molly picked up the pace as she saw the Bridge of Angels in the sight. "The Vatican Museum. We have to find the Sarcophagus of St. Helen."

"Why exactly?" he asked.

"You're supposed to take after your father, aren't you? Why do I have to be the brains of the operation?"

Mutt prickled at the comment, "Hey! I was the one who did all the background on this 'operation', all right Little Miss Harvard?"

Molly turned around to glare at him quickly. Luckily the Vatican lay in front of them and quelled any argument that may have arisen. The crowds shuffled around them excitedly and the pair promptly purchased tickets to the museum.

"What does the sarcophagus look like?" Mutt asked as they entered the museum.

"Purple marble... It's actually quite remarkable."

"How do you know this is what we need?"

"The sarcophagus is very detailed and incised. If St. Helen really did ask for the spear head back, then shouldn't we be able to see something pertaining to it?" Molly asked, slightly absent-mindedly. She glanced around at the high halls and detailed decor of the museum.

Mutt whistled lowly, "I'd love to see what they've got hidden around here."

"There it is!" Molly whispered excitedly. She pointed a finger at a large, imposing marble casket, composed of smooth and delicate purple marble. The two pushed their way through the crowds until they reached the sarcophagus.

"Okay," Mutt breathed, trying to get a handle on the carvings which covered the entire piece. Feeling the hair prickle on the back of his neck he noticed two dark figures from the corner of his eye.

"Uh, Molly..." he began. The guards began to close in on them.

She was on her hands and knees, hardly inconspicuous. Mutt dropped to the ground beside her. "We've got company," he muttered, nodding his head behind him.

"Damn!" she swore. Mutt raised his eyebrows, but something caught his eye.

"What's this?" he gestured to a section of the carved sarcophagus which showed Jesus on the cross, a Roman soldier about to prick his side.

Molly's eyes widened. "The tip of the spear is missing!" she said hurriedly.

Everything clicked for Mutt. "Look for the spearhead, it has to be on the sarcophagus somewhere!"

He was hardly able to finish his sentence when he felt a pair of hands hauling him to his feet. Spinning around, he saw that the two guards had finally reached them. Molly stood up beside him, a blanched look on her face. Not knowing what to do, Mutt shoved his hands in his pockets, and was poked by a small object. Instantly, he felt relieved.

"Found it!" Mutt said, holding up an earring. Turning to Molly, he smiled. "Here sweetheart." She masked her fear with a tight smile.

Turning back to the guards he threw them a lopsided grin. "They're her mother's, family heirloom."

The guards, intimidating in their black suits, started at him for a moment longer. One grumbled something in Italian and then they slowly went away. "What did he say?" Molly whispered as she turned back to St. Helen's final resting place.

"I dunno, something having to do with women and their jewelry."

"Where did you manage to produce an earring so quickly?" Molly asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you find the spearhead?" Mutt asked, deflecting the question. Molly just shook her head. He had just answered it for her.

"There!" she said, pointing to a small, triangular looking object tangled in vines.

Mutt squinted his eyes to see better. "I see it," he said, his heart beating wildly and his breath flying out of his chest. The tiny spearhead was nestled in a group of vines. Beside it were tiny etchings.

"There's a message," Molly whispered. "I think its in Greek. I can't read it."

"Well, well Ivy League. I guess it's my time to shine," Mutt said, leaning in closer and trying to read the symbols. He clicked his tongue. "This looks recent. It could just be graffiti."

"It might say something anyway," she mentioned.

Mutt's heart pounded as he tried to make out the words. "Its a Bible passage. Genesis 26:3."

"Um, Henry," Molly said, an uneasy note in her voice.

Mutt whipped around to see two men approaching. The same two they had just shaken off a few minutes ago. Mutt grabbed Molly's upper arm. "Okay, let's go."

They pushed their way through the crowd, trying to separate themselves from the men. The pushing tourists were making the job easy. Without much fuss, they slipped into the jumble of cameras and flashes. Molly was slowly finding her heart returning to its normal pace. She looked over at Mutt, who wore a handsome grin on his face. He was clearly pleased with himself.

"You'd better learn to check that ego of yours," she murmured to him, "it'll get you in trouble."

The grin only widened. "Promise?"

At the sound of a sharp yell, the duo turned around in tandem. A guard had knocked over a housewife admiring a statue of Venus… and was heading straight for them.

"Oh I _promise_!" Molly growled as she took off into a run.

Mutt was right behind her as they forced their way through the throngs of people, into the Vatican gardens. The crowds protested loudly at both the pursuers and the pursued. Molly was about two strides in front of him and gaining speed. He wondered, annoyed, at how she could keep up such a pace when they had almost no sleep and no food.

He also immediately felt naked as he remembered he left his gun and knife back at the hotel. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and he tripped on a loose flagstone and tumbled head first into the short hedge Molly had cleared a few seconds before.

He felt someone haul him up by the scruff of his shirt, and he kicked out his legs, flailing. They dragged him into more brambles and some got caught on his clothes, scratching his skin.

The person abruptly let him go, and scrambling up on his hands and knees, he was embarrassed to find it only being Molly, who helped drag him into a company of rose bushes. She scratched her cheek he noticed, but her big blue eyes were wide with nervousness as she placed a single finger to her lips.

_Be quiet_. Yeah, that much he could gather, Little Miss Harvard.

There were the low sounds of two people talking. Peering through some of the thorns he noticed that it was the guards. Closing his eyes, Mutt tried to calm the heavy pulse of his heart. Molly leaned on him, and he could feel her heart hammering against her breast.

The two calmed their breaths and strained their ears. Mutt's Italian was very rusty, but he could gather a few short sentences.

"On to something… won't be pleased…"

It appeared that more than one person had a vested interest in what they were looking for. Especially the Vatican.

* * *

><p>Isay was waiting for them at the Rome airport. His hulking figure was slightly welcoming, steady against the quivering crowds of the city. He raised his hand to them in greeting. Mutt hooked his thumbs into the loops of his trousers, pushing his hat further up his head as he wiped sweat from his brow.<p>

"So," Isay began, "where are we to next?"

Molly and Mutt looked over at one another.

"Well," she began, "we found the sarcophagus and on it there was an inscription from the book of Genesis."

"Sojourn in this land, and I will be with you and will bless you, for to you and to your offspring I will give all these lands, and I will establish the oath that I swore to Abraham your father," Mutt quoted.

Isay raised his eyebrows. Mutt shrugged, "Sunday school."

Molly continued on, unimpressed. "So we have-"

Mutt's stomach protested loudly. He put a hand to his belly, trying to calm his roiling gut. "Can we find a taverna? I'm so hungry I'm seeing spots."

Isay nodded in agreement, but Molly stared at the two of them disbelievingly. "There are people tailing us, we are one the verge of a major breakthrough, we are in a race to save_ your_ mother and father… and all you can think about is your stomach! Do you have any idea what that inscription means?"

"Of course I do sweetheart," Mutt quipped indignantly, winking charmingly, "it means that we're going out for a massive Italian lunch and then heading to Israel."

Molly flushed red with anger as she spun on her heel and headed off in the direction of the nearest vendor hawking a five course 'authentic' Roman meal. Mutt sat back on his heels and dug an elbow into Isay's side good-naturedly. "She likes me," he mentioned, admiring her calves under the hem of her skirt as she put as much distance between them as she could manage.


	8. Chapter 8

"Aw, Moll, will you quit being sore?" Mutt pleaded while they were sitting on their suitcases, waiting for a car to pick them up. Isay had gone ahead with strict instructions on how they were not supposed to behave in his absence. He had contacts that he had to meet.

Molly had not spoken to them all through that Roman lunch, nor the entire flight, and she was still silent, staring ahead in the distance, her small hands fisted under her chin. The warm night in Jerusalem could have been much nicer had she been somewhat more obliging. In fact, Mutt thought up a few activities they could get up to… involving those slim, smooth calves of hers in particular.

He closed his eyes, trying to shake the thought from his head. Thoughts of her calves, and the thighs they were attached to… wrapped around his waist as she-

"I am so incredibly angry!" she suddenly burst.

"I was-" Mutt began, but she held up a hand to silence him.

"This is not a film! Nor is it some kind of pulp fiction adventure story! This is my _life_, Henry! I don't have time to drop everything and chase some… mythical, _stupid_ artifact around the world! I am a scholar not some good for nothing adventurer… I am a _Harvard_ graduate for crying out loud-"

Something about her condescending tone, her tight-lipped expression on the plane, and her outburst made Mutt's blood begin to boil. She was still going on, throwing her hands around, pointing a finger at him, and referring to him as an oaf- did she really just call him an oaf?

He grabbed her fist in his hand.

"Now, hold it right there," he said, his voice deadly calm. "You need to just relax a little, Miss Ivy League."

She was about to open her mouth, but he swiftly pressed his finger against her lush, wide lips. "You need to take a moment to realize that this isn't about you anymore. This about something bigger than the both of us right now, and its so big that there are countries, and presidents, and the possibility of innocent lives at risk.

"And I know I didn't graduate from somewhere like Harvard, but I also like to think that there's more to an education than sitting in a classroom, listening to what some stuffed shirt tells you about history. You're out here Molly, really out here, doing what's right. And you're here with me because you're smart… you see through things and make them right again- not because you can translate some Latin off a sheet of paper."

She tried to open her mouth, but Mutt wrapped a hand around the base of her skull, fisting his hands into the multitude of her soft, flaxen hair. The finger that was pressed to her lips removed itself to take off her glasses.

Her eyes were wide, settling on his own lips, watching them with intent. Mutt pressed her up against him, sliding the glasses into his pocket.

"So," he finished, nearly going wild when she stuck out her tongue to wet her lips, "if you pay attention, Little Miss Harvard, you might actually _learn _something."

He leaned in, ferociously kissing her lips; drinking from her all the words they did not share in the past day or so. She opened up to him; allowing Mutt to taste her mouth, explore it. She fisted her hands in the lapels of his shirt, pressing herself flush against him. That was it- there was only the two of them there, in the arrivals terminal, waiting for a stranger to bring them to their latest location.

She took a moment to come up for air and Mutt kissed her neck. "If you think you're going to bed alone tonight," he growled, "you're very wrong."

Her skin erupted into goose bumps. He affixed his lips to hers once more, firmly wrapping his hands around her waist.

"Hey!" A loud shout came from the window of a car. "You two lovebirds with Isay?"

Molly slowly took her hands off of Mutt's shirt, smoothing out the winkles. She smiled, trying to regain some of her dignity. Mutt looked annoyed with the interruption.

"Yes," she answered, fixing her hair, "yes, that's us."

"Well, there's been a change of plans," the cab driver said, coming to collect their bags.

"What do you mean?" Molly whined. "No hotel?"

The cabbie shook his head, "I'm afraid not someone wants to see you as soon as possible. Has a private house here, where you'll be staying."

"What's his name?" Mutt asked.

"Oh, he says you know him pretty well."

"I don't think you heard me. What's his name?" Mutt asked again, tense.

"He calls himself the Professor."

Immediately Mutt smiled. "Take us to him."

* * *

><p>Molly nearly wept when she saw Dean Henry Jones standing in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. His figure was darkened by the backlight of the room, the streetlamps casting shadows on the porch and walkway. The house was situated on a tall hill overlooking Jerusalem. The view would be breathtaking in the morning, she noted.<p>

"Hi dad," Mutt said from behind her, grabbing both Molly's and his suitcases and striding through the front gate.

"Hey kid," the old professor said easily, smiling lopsidedly at his son as he approached.

"Hello sir," Molly said, managing her best smile though she was weary and beat-up from travel and adventure.

Jones regarded the two ramshackle youngsters with the same practiced and tired eyes he used to look over ancient artifacts. Molly Moore had her arms folded across her chest, a bit of slip showing from the hem of her skirt, her blond curls barely held together by a clip at the back of her neck. Mutt stood next to her, rocking back on his heels, his hat pushed up so he could wipe the sweat from his forehead, his hands punched in his pockets.

"Well," Jones said tiredly, "I think you'd better come in. We woke the cook up to make you something to eat."

Molly's eyes immediately brightened at the prospect of food, Mutt blowing out a sigh of relief. Leaving their bags in the front hall they quickly followed Jones into the kitchen where a spread of leftover meat, cheese, pita bread and vegetables were neatly laid out on the kitchen table.

Molly had to remind herself to be polite as she tucked into the spread. Mutt didn't feel the least bit embarrassed as he stuffed himself full of good, Mediterranean food. He hummed his appreciation for the meal as his mother walked into the room.

"I'm glad we were able to catch you!" Marion said happily, throwing her arms around Mutt.

I'm not sure who he's more like, Molly mused to herself as she watched Mutt interact with Marion. He was more reserved around his father… Not completely comfortable with him yet. But around Marion she saw that he was totally himself, almost like he was with her.

"And you must be Molly!" Marion chirped happily, coming over to offer her a hug. Molly found herself engulfed in her warm, strong arms and nearly sank into the comfort they offered. "It's about time he brought home a nice respectable girl!"

"Oh, well I'm actually his-"

"How were you able to find us?" Mutt asked, cutting her off.

"I have some Intel that's been keeping an eye on the two of you. We decided to intersect in Jerusalem."

"We have people tailing us," Mutt said, a mouthful of pita nearly blocking his words.

"You'll be safe here for a little while at least. We can offer you food, shelter, and a place to rest for the next bit," Jones answered steadily. "How much do you know?"

Henry shrugged. "Depends. We found a letter in Rome that led us to the Vatican."

"To the sarcophagus of St. Helen, to be precise. There was information in the letter that suggested that she might have been buried with the spear. Instead we found an inscription that showed the spear head missing and gave us a biblical passage speaking about the chosen land," Molly finished.

Mutt nodded, "That's right. But there's also this small problem we have with alchemy."

Jones seemed to perk up at the comment. "What do you mean?"

Mutt shrugged, palms facing up, "We were attacked by this man from a Christian brotherhood. Claimed he was protecting religious artifacts and told us that the spear was hidden away safely. He had the same symbol tattooed on his chest that an FBI agent showed Molly and I a few days before this whole… _situation_ began."

Jones felt the color drain from his face. Marion, noting the sudden change in her husband clapped her hands together. "I think that its time for bed!" she stated, standing up and clearing the plates of food.

"I'll help you," Molly said, gathering up the large tray.

"Where was the symbol from?" Jones asked his son.

"Whaddya mean?" Mutt drawled, running a hand through his hair.

"I mean the picture, the one the FBI showed you? Do you know where that photo was taken?"

"I think it was Nepal, or some kind of Eastern, Oriental country," Molly said over her shoulder. She helped Marion load the dishes into the sink.

"So," Marion said, smiling, "how long have you known Henry?"

Molly, who was straining to hear the men in the background, formulated an answer as quickly as she could manage, "Oh about eight months now."

"And I'm only just meeting you now!"

Molly thought she heard something about a murder. "How did you meet?"

"Um," she began, gathering her thoughts, "I was finishing up some of my Master's work at the university. He needed someone to teach a class for him, and I was a last resort that turned into a secretarial position."

"Oh," Marion said, cocking an eyebrow, "you're also his secretary?"

"Assistant actually," Molly corrected. "I help him out with classes, writing, organizing his day to day life, his publishing, excavating… basically everything." Molly paused suddenly, "Did you say also?"

Marion was about to answer, but Mutt put an arm around her shoulders. "We'd better get to bed," he said, stifling a yawn.

"That sounds like a great idea," Marion agreed. "We'll put you up in the bedroom upstairs… Last door on the right."

Molly's eyes began to droop as she nodded her head lazily, taking Mutt's arm. "Thank you for everything," Molly added, smiling warmly at Marion and her husband.

"Of course dear!" she said, squeezing her forearm. "Henry's lucky to have you!"

"I tell her every day," Mutt said charmingly as they climbed the stairs.

"I want that in writing from now on," Molly said waspishly.

As they were walking down the hallway, Molly smiled contentedly. The whole house was filled with large windows overlooking a deep valley where the rest of Jerusalem resided. She felt drunk on jet lag and good food, leaning on to Mutt and he led her down a series of doors.

"Your mother really seemed curious about me," she said, leaning her head against his arm.

"Yeah, she can be like that with women in my life," he said non-chalantly.

"She kept on asking about how we met and how long we'd-"

Molly suddenly stopped, nearly tripping Mutt. "Henry," she said, suddenly coming to her senses. "You told her that we- that we're together, didn't you?" She put a hand to her mouth, her voice deadly low.

Mutt laughed, shrugging his shoulders, "I might've mentioned it… that we you know, were working closely together…"

Molly was just about to rip her own hair out. "_Why_?" she demanded hurriedly, in a whisper that could have been a yell.

He faced her, an innocent look on his face as though he had not done something wrong. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"What do you mean?" she asked angrily in a hushed tone. "She was acting all friendly with me as though I were your fiancée or something…"

Mutt smiled and scratched the back of his neck. Molly threw her hands in the air, "So not only do I manage your entire life in and out of the university, but I apparently I've also agreed to bear your children and feed you potato and leek soup until I die. Excellent! That was _exactly_ the kind of life_ I_ was hoping for with my education!"

"Oh relax! I just told her so she'd get off my back about the girls I was dating before. Its not like she's hopeful or expects anything!" he countered with a complete admission.

Molly half expected him to continue denying it. "Well," she said, folding her arms across her chest, "I am far too tired to be fully angry about this right now. And don't you dare think this conversation is over."

He shrugged, reaching forward to toy with the sleeve of her top, "Well after that kiss in the train station I thought we could settle everything in the bedro-"

A prompt slap sung across his cheek. Shaking his head to abate some of the pins and needles which struck he turned to Molly. She held a pointer finger in his face, "Don't you dare speak to me like I'm some common woman Henry Jones."

Molly promptly shoved past him on her way to a bedroom door. She opened one that housed a very comfortable and enticing king sized bed. All he really wanted was to fall into it with her and stay there for twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, the scowl on her face and the slamming of hard wood into the frame was enough to let him know none of those things would be happening… at least yet anyway.

"Hey!" he whispered after her. "It's Williams."


	9. Chapter 9

"What do you mean you lost them?"

The scratching, Russian voice on the other end of the line made Isay's hair stand on the end of his neck. "It's Jones," he said, "there's no other way they would have dared lost me otherwise."

"Then find him, the son and the girl too. In fact, Jones could be rather useful to our cause. Bring them all to me. Alive."

The hot Israeli sun was beating down already at nine in the morning. Isay's dark clothes felt heavier on him than usual, weighed down with perspiration. He felt sweat begin to gather under his fedora. "Has the woman been taken care of?"

"Days and days ago, Isay. Your job is to deliver the persons in question to me. The situation has changed. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Excellent," the voice ground out. "Do not disappoint me."

* * *

><p>Mutt sat up in bed so quickly he was seeing spots. It was not often dreams disturbed him. He usually slept fine. Had been like that his whole life. Though when he did have a bad dream, it was not one he could easily forget.<p>

The drapes blocked out the sunlight had cracks in the dark material, which left a shining light emitting from the morning sunshine. His whole body ached with effort as he sat up, still too tired to properly function. The couch he had been exiled to was hardly ideal. The thin mattress did little to cushion his exhausted frame. His head throbbed as he tried to recall the nightmare.

The dreamy images were already hazy in his memory. Closing his eyes he called up the picture of the triangle inside the circle. In his dream it had been a brand, something heated in a fire and then pressed into the skin of an unfortunate human being, causing the tender flesh to peel back. His stomach reeled.

Sitting up he placed his head between his knees, bringing his breathing back to normal. Then he heard the soft padding of footsteps coming into the living room.

"Come in," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

Molly peeked around the door, her eyes squinting. "You have my glasses," she said curtly.

"Oh," he said, standing up and reaching for his discarded trousers. Feeling in the pocket for the frames he handed them to her.

She stepped forward, and slid them on her face, her eyes visibly relaxing.

"Do you really need them that badly?" Mutt asked, yawning.

"I need them to see far away," she answered. Her eyebrows knit together as she examined the dejected body in front of her. "What happened to you?"

'This," Mutt motioned violently to the couch as his other hand massaged his temple.

"You're sweating Henry."

"I know!" he hissed. Really, he was not in the mood. "I had a bad dream."

"Oh," she said softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He really wanted to stick a fan in his face and try to get some real rest, but in spite of himself, he found that he started to tell her everything. "The symbol the FBI showed us, the one that was on the Christian assassin's chest… I saw someone being branded with it… like they do with cattle."

Molly's nose wrinkled.

"I remember reading something about that, people branding themselves in the name of religion…"

"Do you think you had a premonition?" Molly asked. She was teasing.

"No… no nothing like that, but I remember a colleague of mine found a brand like that on a dig. He later published an article about it, saying how it was too delicate to be used on an animal, and there's plenty of literature about hardcore religious zealots lining up to get burned."

Molly nodded; she was sitting beside him now, rubbing his back. Mutt threw his head between his legs. He felt nauseated. "That's all very interesting Henry, but I think in addition to that epiphany you also might have come down with something."

"Well if I'm sick then you'll soon be too… don't worry," he spat.

"Yeah, your tongue coating the inside of my mouth and throat definitely made sure of that," she countered.

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't like how I kiss?"

She shrugged.

"How about like this?" Mutt leaned in easily, kissing her slowly and lightly. When he pulled away her eyes were closed and there was a very slight smile on her lips.

She found herself leaning in again and they kissed as though they were old lovers, in a tired and unhurried way. Mutt found himself sliding her under him as he positioned their bodies on the couch. This was definitely curing his headache as the throbbing he felt in his forehead slowly descended downward.

"We should probably not do this," Molly said, her voice husky.

"We definitely are doing this," he replied, sliding his hands up her nightshirt and over her naked calves. He had wanted to do that for so long.

She sighed heavily as he squeezed her flesh there, here, with gentle but roughly padded hands. She felt drowsy, her eyelids heavily falling over her eyes.

"Would you like breakfast?"

Molly sat up so hard she smacked her face straight into Mutt's. "Ow!" she yelped as Mutt swore terribly. She was blushing such a vibrant red Mutt wondered if she was going for some kind of world record.

"The cook is just coming with some fresh fruit from the market," Miriam said easily, collecting some plates from the cupboard.

Molly quickly muttered an excuse, practically sprinting to the bedroom.

"You're certainly not wasting any time," his mother said, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Ma, please."

She held her hands up, "I know! You're twenty-seven, you're engaged, everything's alright."

"Exactly," he said, putting on his trousers and sitting at the table. He didn't bother with the shirt.

"What's going on in here?" Jones asked, walking into the kitchen, already dressed for the day. He sat at the head of the table across from Mutt.

"Where's Molly?" he asked.

Mutt shrugged, "Changing probably."

"So have the two of you picked a date yet?" asked Marion.

Luckily the cook came in with paper bags filled with fresh baked goods. The smell wafted from the top and Mutt's stomach nearly roared. "Ma, that looks great!" he said, jumping up from his chair and digging around the bag.

Molly entered the kitchen, demurely dressed in a beige skirt and sleeveless blouse. She smoothed the front of her shirt and sat down at the table. Mutt already had a piece of pita hanging out of his mouth as he put his plate down in front of him. He looked over at Molly and winked at her. She blushed furiously.

"Would you like some coffee, Molly?" asked Marion, diffusing some of the tension.

She smiled, "That would be wonderful."

Jones was reading from the newspaper, stroking his chin every now and then as he puzzled over a concept. "Miss Moore," Jones said, folding his paper down, "you should come see our collection of Iron Age figurines from the Negev. I could use a second pair of eyes on them."

"Of course!" Molly said, happy at the prospect of escaping from her current situation.

The two launched into happy chatter about archaeology as Marion set down plates of food in front of them. "Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mrs. Jones," Molly said, pouring some milk into her coffee.

"Oh please! Its Marion… you're going to be family soon, aren't you?"

Jones nearly choked on his coffee. "You and Molly?" he asked his son, who shrugged his shoulders non-chalantly.

He looked at the two of them. Molly couldn't bear to look him in the eye. "We talked about this Henry," Marion said easily.

"I think I would have remembered," he said. "I knew you were engaged, just not to…" he trailed off.

Jones turned to her, "I hope this doesn't mean you're giving up on Oxford."

"Of course not! I would never let anything get in the way of that. Not even marriage." For the last part of her sentence, Molly glared at Mutt. "Although I think that they might have given up on me by this point."

"Its like I said before kiddo, keep your chin up." The older Jones winked at her and she was surprised at how much he and his son were alike.

"I'll support Molly no matter what she does," Mutt chimed in.

"Good," Jones said firmly. "Getting married to a famous scholar is a great honor, just ask her," Jones mentioned, nodding to his wife.

Molly saw Mutt bristle. "You know, I'm making something of myself too," Mutt said, his voice low.

"What was the last thing you published?"

Mutt seemed taken aback. Molly saw him searching for the right answer. He had not published in a while. Or done truly groundbreaking research. Or taught class steadily. Or did lab work.

"Molly," Marion said, changing the subject quickly. "When's the date?"

"I-I'm sorry?" Molly asked.

"For the wedding?"

Molly looked over at Mutt who was also glancing at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Well-"

"We-"

The two of them promptly shut their mouths. Molly suddenly found the tablecloth fascinating. Mutt picked up a pita crumb and crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. Jones and Marion were staring at the two of them curiously. "I don't think we'll pick a date until Molly has heard back from Oxford."

Molly felt her shoulders relax. How did he become such a good _liar_?

She paused. _All the more reason for you to break off this fake engagement_, her mind advised. Really, she needed to speak with him… and time was of the essence.

"Well," Jones said, "that gives you enough time, Miss Moore, to decided whether or not you want to go through with that."

"The marriage or Oxford?" Mutt joked.

Marion laughed. Harmony was restored.

"I need to get to the museum. You kids should be close behind me," Jones said, standing up and gathering some things off the kitchen counter.

Mutt nodded toward the hallway and Molly nodded her head. Marion winked at the two of them. Color rushed to Molly's cheeks when she understood her meaning.

Molly stood up as she heard Jones leave and Mutt escorted her to the bed that she slept deeply in the previous night. She sat on the edge and twirled her tawny hair around a finger. "Well, this is certainly a predicament," she muttered, accenting the sentence with a heavy sigh.

"Look, if you play along for a little while, I'll give you half my funding money for research," Mutt said evenly.

"_What_?"

He did the government favors and in exchange they made sure he got more scholarship money than the physicists who worked on the atomic bomb.

"You heard me."

"But that means I'll have to work under you as a Ph.D. student."

"Yup. And it's about time I got one too."

He was standing in front of her, arms crossed and brow furrowed. His handsome face was unusually serious and formal. Molly laid her hands across her lap.

"Henry… Oxford is… Oxford."

"Oh, Oxford can go hang itself! You should stick with me. I'll give you all the free rein you want Moll. You can publish to any paper, travel anywhere you want, you'll have all of my international contacts, not to mention my father's, and the government will be itching to get to know you a little better… trust me, getting in with them will guarantee job security and a nice fat nest egg for later in life."

She bit her lip, contemplating. What he was offering was much better than anything Oxford could do. She wrung her hands together, thinking.

"C'mon Moll, what do ya say?"

She looked up at him, her eyes dark. "Yes for now. If I hear back from Oxford, everything changes."

He smirked. "Deal?"

He held out his hand for her. She shook it.

"Deal."


	10. Chapter 10

"Henry, do you ever think that maybe someone just lost the artifact and here we are on a wild goose chase?" Molly asked, ducking to avoid someone who was carrying a large basket of bread.

Mutt walked cavalierly down the marketed streets of Jerusalem like he was the next King David. He adjusted his sunglasses, running a hand through the flecks of blonde starting to show in his hair. Molly felt her heart skip for a moment. Then someone promptly knocked her in the shoulder and she found herself falling forward.

"Nice one, Graceful," he quipped, catching her.

Jerusalem was alight with patterned scarves, fresh food, loud music; the market before the Sabbath was truly a sight to behold. They had been here for three days already. The sun was starting to make her and Mutt lazy. They spent their hours in the markets, at the museum, and the beautiful home Dr. Jones and Marion lived in. Worse, Mutt was starting to steal more kisses from her, making Molly wonder if the line they were walking with the 'engagement' was beginning to be blurred.

"And to answer your question, no one would ever lose something so important. We keep looking," he answered easily.

"The trail is cold!" she yelled, resisting the urge to stamp her foot.

"The trail is about to get red hot again Moll," he smiled, winking at her.

Molly blushed. "How are you so sure?"

"Well, follow me and maybe you'll find out."

* * *

><p>"Thanks for seeing us so late!"<p>

"Not at all!" A portly, heavily accented woman opened the door. Her dark hair was caught up in a tight coil and her smile nearly eclipsed the rest of her face. She beckoned them in off the street from an unmarked door.

"Who's this lovely young lady?" she asked.

"Rachel, this is my fi-"

"Friend!" Molly jumped in, surprising them both. "I'm his friend, Molly Moore. And assistant. We work together so-"

"So she keeps me on my toes," Mutt interjected, flashing Rachel his mega-watt smile that seemed to always get him what he wanted.

Rachel conceded easily, smiling and chattering on about the weather. She exited the front room into the kitchen. "Will you just let me do the talking before she gets your whole life story? Geez she's an old friend of mine, not Barbra Walters."

"Well I'm sorry but I'm not about to make up more lies about our relationship," Molly whispered furiously.

Mutt solved the situation by planting a kiss behind her ear. He flicked his warm tongue against the sensitive skin and Molly felt gooseflesh rise. He hummed, running his fingers along her arm. "Sensitive," he murmured.

A low chuckle made Molly jump out of his arms. "Looks like she assists you with a little more than just your assignments," Rachel said, holding a plate of Babka cake.

"Thanks," Molly grumbled, grabbing a piece of moist cake. "How long have you lived here, Rachel?"

"My whole life _yafa_," she answered. "I used to be an archaeologist, but the work took me away too often. I run a boarding house here."

"Oh!" Molly said, peering up the stairs. Now that she had mentioned it, boarding house made sense. The living room was packed with mismatched furniture and a wide table with a plethora of chairs crowded the dining room.

"What brings the two of you to Jerusalem?" asked Rachel.

"That's why we're here Rachel," Mutt said excitedly, spreading out the picture of Christ on his cross out on the coffee table, the same one that Molly had tried to translate Latin from. The whole diner shootout seemed like an eternity ago.

Rachel set the cake down beside the picture.

"We're looking for the Bishop's spear," he said.

Rachel's friendly demeanor seemed to darken a little. "What for?"

"We've gotten into a bit of trouble, it looks like there are other people after it too," he answered, sitting on a fluffy pink sofa. Molly joined him.

"What lead you to Jerusalem?"

"A marking on the sarcophagus of St. Helen. It was beautiful Rachel, all purple marble… you would'a loved it."

Rachel leaned forward on the sofa, lowering her voice. "You know, a few men have been around here, asking about the same thing."

"Oh really?" Molly asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Burly, thug-like," she said. "I told them everything I know."

"Which is what?"

"The same thing I'm telling you. I have no idea where that thing is, and if I were you I'd stay the hell away."

Mutt smiled again, "Oh, Rach you know I'm no good at following orders."

Rachel sighed heavily, "Sometimes you really ask for it. You must be your father's child."

Molly could see Mutt's lips purse just a touch. He coughed, rubbing his palms together. "So, what do you actually know?"

Rachel paused for a moment. "Do you know what the Bishop's spear is actually used for?"

"We think it may have something to do with alchemy," Molly answered.

Rachel nodded. "Early alchemists believed that Christ's blood could conjure an elixer that would put an end to human suffering. Whoever drank from it would be granted eternal life."

"So that's why everyone wants a piece," Mutt muttered to himself.

"The inscription led us here," Molly added. "But I think that we've reached a dead end."

Rachel laughed, helping to lighten the mood of the room. "Archaeology is full of dead ends _yafa_. After a while you get used to them."

"Rachel, this thing is big. The FBI and CIA want in on the action. The truth is, Molly and I were kidnapped to find the spear. But we managed to get away and have been laying low for a few days. If we don't find the spear before everyone else does, then trouble's gonna go global."

Rachel seemed to be considering his statement for a moment. Then, slowly she began to unbutton her blouse. Mutt sat upright, confused, but Molly knew what she was up to. Pulling down a side of her shirt, she revealed a copy of the tattoo the Assassin wore over his breast.

"You all keep popping up everywhere," Mutt quibbled.

"Can you help us?" Molly asked.

"The spear is somewhere safe, I assure you."

"So you know the location?" Mutt asked hurriedly.

She hesitated.

"Vell, vell, vell."

The unmistakable accent rang clearly through the walls of the boarding house. Mutt turned his head to see Isay standing there, a grim expression on his face and pistol cocked in his hand.

"This the thug you were going on about?" Mutt asked.

"No, I've been letting this gentleman stay here," Rachel answered, voice quivering.

"Right," Mutt retorted, "if you guys are this good at security, I can guarantee that those enemies of yours are knocking back some of the potion right now."

"Mutt!" Molly admonished.

"Whatever it is you want, you won't find it here," Rachel said, voice surprisingly steady.

Mutt reached into his pocked, running his thumb along the knife placed carefully there. "Your conflict is with us Isay," he reminded the massive Russian.

Isay laughed deeply, "I just heard everything."

Deciding it was better to act, Mutt drew his knife out of the pocket of his tan slacks, hurling it at Isay. It hit his shoulder. His arm lifted, gun going off. The shot blasted through the room. Mutt heard Molly fall to the ground behind him. He didn't see where the bullet went, only where it didn't. When he didn't feel any pain, Mutt charged into Isay, knocking the man to the ground.

"Molly!" he yelled as the two scuffled. "You and Rachel get outta here!"

Molly turned to the woman lying on the ground beside her. "Come on Rachel," she said, helping her to her feet. It was when she rose that Molly saw the damage the weapon had done.

"M-Mutt," Molly tried, but the stain was spreading across the white of Rachel's blouse.

"I need to sit," Rachel ground out. Molly nodded dumbly. Then, gaining some sense she immediately pressed her hand to the woman's stomach, trying to stop up some of the blood.

"Okay, what we really need is to get you to a hospital," Molly said as calmly as possible. Looking over her shoulder, Isay and Mutt were still fighting, knocking over a vase that appeared to be expensive.

Sticking Isay's shoulder with the knife only made him angrier, Mutt decided. He felt as though he were grappling with a bear. Squeezing Isay's wrist, he forced the gun from his hands, letting it clatter to the floor.

"Moll!" Mutt yelped. "Grab the gun!"

Abandoning her post, Molly sprinted for the pistol. It slid through the blood-soaked fingers. The grip was shaky. She pointed it at Isay. "Let him go!"

Two pairs of eyes stared back at her. Isay's were filled with laughter, but Mutt's were wide an encouraging.

"Put gun down little girl or-"

Molly fired it, causing both men to curl and yell. The hole in the wall said that the bullet had been a little to close for comfort. Oh well, it was meant as a warning shot anyway. "Okay! Good one!" Mutt said, peering from behind his arm.

He stood up, reaching for the gun. His face paled when he saw Molly's bloody hands and forearms. "What did he do to you?"

"Rachel," Molly forced out.

Mutt strode purposefully across the room, preparing to lift her into his arms. Rachel smiled at him. "No time," she said.

"What do you mean? I'll get you outta here so fast-"

Rachel shook her braided head. "There's no time. I need to tell you something. Come close."

Mutt fell to his knees, leaning in closer to Rachel. "There are three maps, all leading to the same place. They are fashioned in our symbol; the triangle surrounded by the circle. Dr. Eleanor Palmetter found one in Nepal. Go to her. One leads to the next."

"Is that how we find the spear?"

She laughed, coughing up blood. "I should hope so. It is what I have been told. No brother or sister has ever laid eyes on That Which is Most Holy." More spluttering. Reaching around her neck she removed a thin chain, the triangle and circle hanging off the end. It had gone unnoticed before, now she handed it to him.

"Rachel, I'm getting you out of here-"

"Take it. Find it before they do."

Mutt opened his palm. The pendant dropped into his hand.


End file.
